Birtwell,
gloomily. "Ellis would be hurt and offended."
"So far so good. He'd be on guard at the next party."
"Perhaps so. But what hope is there for a young man in any danger of
acquiring a love of liquor as things now are in our best society? He
cannot always be on guard. Wine is poured for him everywhere. He may
go unharmed in his daily walks through the city though thousands of
drinking-saloons crowd its busy streets. They may hold out their
enticements for him in vain. But he is too weak to refuse the
tempting glass when a fair hostess offers it, or when, in the midst
of a gay company wine is in every hand and at every lip. One glass
taken, and caution and restraint are too often forgotten. He drinks
with this one and that one, until his clear head is gone and
appetite, like a watchful spider, throws another cord of its fatal
web around him."
"I don't see what we are to do about it," said Mr. Birtwell. "If men
can't control themselves--" He did not finish the sentence.
"We can at least refrain from putting temptation in their way,"
answered his wife.
"How?"
"We can refuse to turn our houses into drinking-saloons," replied
Mrs. Birtwell, voice and manner becoming excited and intense.
"Margaret, Margaret, you are losing yourself," said the astonished
husband.
"No; I speak the words of truth and soberness," she answered, her
face rising in color and her eyes brightening.
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